Clark's Wings
by RavenWolf3
Summary: Something is happening to Clark, and he wants to know why.Very light Clex


When they first began to grow, Clark was terrified. He locked himself in his room and spent hours twisting around to look at his back in the mirror. How could this be? What would he do now? He thought about trying to cut them off, but the very idea made him sick. Self-mutilation, even if he could perform it without the risk of accidentally killing himself, was not the answer.  
  
But what was? What would he do with these things? How could he hide it? For the first week, he hid them under double layers of over-sized shirts. At school, he wore his backpack at all times, and slid down in his chair whenever possible. They were just small lumps in his back, at that point. Barely distinguishable from his shoulder blades.  
  
But after the first week, he noticed something. In the shower one day, he touched them and found that they were painful and sore. And a downy white feather covering was growing over them. He didn't know what to do. So he resorted to telling his parents what was going on, in hopes of aid.  
  
His father gasped when he saw the nubs on his son's back. They were out in the barn, and Clark was surprised that he could feel the cold on the sensitive bumps. When his father touched them, he cried out in pain. Jonathan Kent recoiled, and looked down at his hands. How had he hurt his boy? His strong, invincible, good-hearted boy?  
  
"You'll be okay, Clark. It's just another new power; that's all. You'll get through it, just the way you always do. And your mother and I are always here for you." He clapped Clark on the shoulder and helped him pull his shirt back on.  
  
"But it hurts, Dad. And I don't know why. Are they...are they wings? Will I be able to fly?"  
  
"I don't know, son." Jonathan Kent went into the little farmhouse he shared with his wife and son, and thought about how inadequate a human father was for his extraordinary son. He talked to his wife that night, and laid awake thinking about his son, who was growing wings to fly away from them.  
  
Clark went up into the loft and stared through his telescope. At the stars, this time, not at Lana Lang. The air was clean and fresh, and Clark wondered if some day soon, he'd be able to glide on the currents and watch over people from above. And if it would be worth the loss of his human side.  
  
But how could a hundred-and-eighty pound farm boy from Kansas fly on wings? And was that really what they were for? Clark was careful as he sat against the wooden frame and looked across the fields. His back still stung something fierce.  
  
The day then came when it was impossible to hide them by conventional means. Clark had felt the stretching and growing in his back every day, and recognized it for what it was. His wings were growing bones, getting bigger. It had been iffy for a while now, and at night when he got home from school, his wings hurt from being compressed behind a backpack. He spent an hour that night with his father and mother, trying to find a way to strap his wings back so that they wouldn't be noticeable. It hurt and felt like confinement, but Clark let them do it because he wanted more than anything to be human. Now he could barely even pass for it.  
  
He hadn't seen Chloe or Lana in ages. He hadn't even talked to Pete. There were inquisitive messages on the machine, but he never called back, and they began to drift away. He didn't question their rationalization, or why they were leaving him. They were just human, that was all. He couldn't expect them to stand by his side while he was pushing them away.  
  
Pete was his good friend, and suspected that something was going on. Especially after Clark missed two days in a row of school. Clark Kent never missed school, not unless someone was dying. So Pete came over and made a house call on behalf of himself and Chloe and Lana, who still cared about Clark, no matter what he did.  
  
Clark didn't answer the door, and Mrs. Kent was very evasive about his whereabouts, saying that Clark had discovered a new power, and was working on how to control it. Pete wouldn't take this for an answer, and Mr. Kent came up and asked him inside. Pete went up to Clark's room and saw his friend, standing in front of a mirror with his shirt off. There were wings on his back that reached to the floor, and they were covered with soft, downy white feathers.  
  
"Wow, man! You've got frickin' wings!" Pete was exhilarated. Clark could fly! "This is amazing! Do you even know how cool this is?!"  
  
Pete clapped a hand on Clark's back, and Clark winced. "Look, Pete, can we please not make a big deal about this? I just need to find a way to pass for human, and then I can go back to school. Can you...can you help me?"  
  
"Sure, man."  
  
They spent hours trying everything that Clark had already tried, all in vain. His white angel's wings would not stay hidden. Finally, Pete had an idea. "We'll just clip them. Y'know, without the feathers, they'll be much easier to push down. Hang on right here, and I'll go get the clippers."  
  
When Pete came back upstairs, Clark was gone. He stared at the clippers in his hand, and realized that he should never think of clipping his best friend's wings. No matter what. He returned the clippers to their proper drawer, and declined Mrs. Kent's friendly dinner invitation.  
  
Clark spent the night out in the field, shivering in the night with his brand-new wings wrapped protectively around himself.  
  
The next night, Lex called him. He was very upset, and Clark forgot about his wings. "Lex! What happened?"  
  
"Can you just please come over, Clark? I...I really need someone to talk to."  
  
Clark didn't remember his condition until he tried to pull a shirt on. His wings shuddered and ached. He froze in his tracks. If he went to Lex now, he would know that he'd lied throughout their friendship. But Lex needed him, and if he didn't go now, he didn't think he'd be able to call himself a friend ever again.  
  
He grabbed a red blanket from the couch and wrapped it around himself like a cloak. It hid his wings alright, and was passable for now. He didn't stop to tell his parents where he was going; they would have tried to stop him, and he wouldn't have let them. No sense in fighting needlessly.  
  
He ran at top speed along the empty country roads. The blanket flapped out behind him, and the cold air felt like nirvana on his naked wings. He almost forgot where he was going, but the castle in the distance screamed Lex at him, and he instead forgot about his wings.  
  
The security system let him through, and he found Lex in his dark study. Lex turned at the sound of footsteps, and the pain in his eyes was so naked and raw that it nearly brought Clark to his knees. The red blanket fluttered uselessly to the floor.  
  
"Thanks for coming, Clark," Lex said in a thick, raw voice.  
  
"Always, Lex," Clark said softly, blushing lightly. He stared at the floor. Something strange was blossoming in his chest; it felt like pain but it was far too sweet for that. He came to Lex, his feathers ruffling softly in the dark. He put a hand on his best friend's shoulder.  
  
Lex looked up, and said nothing. Realization dawned in his eyes, and he realized that this was Clark's way of ending the lie. Would he accept it? Could he? His eyes feasted on the magnificent, angelic wings.  
  
He cleared his throat. "They're beautiful, Clark."  
  
Clark's wings folded around him in embarrassment. "Really? You don't...you don't think I'm a freak?"  
  
Lex stood up and stared Clark straight in the eye. "I never thought you were a freak. I thought you were an angel." He touched Clark's left wing with his fingers. Then he said, with unbridled honesty, "And now I know I was right."  
  
The kiss was only natural. The most natural, and most human thing in the entire world. As their lips and tongues met, Clark's wings folded gently around them.  
  
He'd finally figured out what they were for. 


End file.
